


Emergence - Ch. 3 - Pari Passu

by Rhiyah



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-28
Updated: 2011-06-28
Packaged: 2017-10-20 19:19:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/216245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhiyah/pseuds/Rhiyah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Title: Emergence - Chapter 3 - Pari Passu<br/>Series: Emergence: The Sum of All Parts<br/>Game: Dragon Age 2<br/>Pairing: Warrior f!Hawke/Fenris (Later Chapters)<br/>Characters: Warrior f!Hawke, Carver, Anders, Fenris, Aveline, Varric<br/>Raiting: M<br/>Wordcount: 4590<br/>Summary: Hawke endeavors to help her friends, old and new, and meets a sexy elf who takes her breath away. Now if he can just stop pissing everyone off, life would be dandy in Kirkwall.<br/>Warnings: Sexual Situations, Adult Language.<br/>Unadulterated love and undying appreciation for my beta angelanalect -- she rocks the world I write in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Emergence - Ch. 3 - Pari Passu

~~¤~~¤~~¤~~

It was merely scratching an itch that would not abate, Hawke told herself, wrapping her legs around his waist as he thrust against her. The cold stone wall of the armory supported her back; she rocked her hips in time with his movements as she clung to his broad shoulders.

Jace Ewald, a captain in the Kirkwall guard, was an attractive man. Not breathtakingly handsome or exotic, but easy on the eyes. He often wore his dark red hair short in the back but with some length on top, in a cut that reminded her of Carver’s preferred style. Heavy lidded deep blue eyes beneath fine eyebrows looked out on the world with insouciance. That expression of indifference was what first piqued her interest in him, making her wonder if it was feigned or genuine.

They’d struck up a companionship of sorts shortly after she’d arrived in Kirkwall, despite the whole bribery for entry into the overcrowded city business. He had put in a good word for Aveline when she wanted to join the guard, and he’d often extracted Uncle Gamlen out of a tight spot when the old sot didn’t have enough sense for self-preservation.

Occasionally during the past year they had found comfort and relief in each other’s arms, conveniently, and without any strings attached. The situation suited her perfectly. She would never be so crass as to refer to him as a fuck buddy, although she was honest enough with herself to admit he was nothing more.

Hawke never traded specifics with him, telling him nothing of her personal life, thoughts or feelings. Likewise, he’d told her scare details of himself, not that she was interested in knowing more. Truly, she preferred things to be impersonal between them. Less chance for wounded pride or hurt feelings, no set expectations or misconstrued intentions.

“Enough teasing, Jace, either screw me already or put me down.” Hawke bit down on the tendon that ran along the side of his neck, not hard but with enough pressure that he sucked in a deep breath.

“Fuck, Hawke. Try not to draw blood, will you?” His hands fumbled with her belt and the fastenings underneath.

“That’s what I’m trying to do! Fuck, you daft man, hurry up.” Pushing his hands out of the way she quickly flipped open the fly of her breeches.

Chuckling softly, he shifted her in his arms and, lowering her legs to the ground, reached around to pull the loosened garment from her hips.

~~¤~~¤~~¤~~

“Hawke?”

Hearing her name, she stopped and looked over her shoulder at the guardswoman.

“Morning, Aveline.” Flashing a lazy, self-satisfied grin at the stunned woman, Hawke waited for her friend to catch up.

“I won’t ask you what brings you to be here so early, Hawke. I won’t even ask whom, but I will remind you that guests are not permitted to stay overnight within the barracks. Jeven would have whomever it is punished, severely, were he to find out.” Aveline frowned, her lips thinning to a grimace as she stared at Hawke.

For a moment, she wondered if her friend knew just who she’d been with and if perhaps Aveline had her own interest in Captain Ewald. Mentally shaking herself, she considered Wesley, and the fact that the other woman practically slept with her dead husband’s shield. No, Aveline was definitely not interested in Jace Ewald.

Not that Hawke would mind if Aveline was interested. It would just mean that she’d need a new scratching post. She cared too much for the bristly guardswoman to ruin their friendship over sex, especially when there were plenty of available, and interested, parties to be found in Kirkwall.

“Fear not, Aveline. I arrived at the keep not more than a half hour ago. I was merely… catching up with Captain Ewald.”

The frown dissipated from the woman’s face soon to be replaced by a wry grin and a slightly disapproving look.

“Hawke,” she chastised.

“You think to lay into me as well, Aveline? I tell you, I’ll not abide it. I’ve already heard an earful from Carver this very morning.”

Hawke stared, her face mostly passive with the exception of a faintly twitching eyebrow. She was quite sick of people dictating her actions based on some notion of propriety. It was like having a gaggle of mother hens clucking over her night and day.

“I wouldn’t—”

Hawke laughed harshly. “Of course you would, Aveline. It’s just what you do.”

She shook her head and stalked away toward the main area of the keep. However, her friend was not content to let the conversation drop. A hand gripped her arm and forcibly turned her around.

“Hawke… Greyling, I don’t give a damn about what opinions are formed because of your… particular habits. However, I do care a great deal about what happens to you, and so you know it!” Aveline’s voice dropped to barely a whisper. “I hate to admit it, but many of my fellow guards are not honorable men, and I would not see you hurt.”

“I appreciate your concern, but I can defend myself from any unwanted attention. Though I hasten to add, there has not been an occasion to do so.” Hawke placed a hand gently on her friend’s shoulder.

“I’m more concerned about someone breaking your heart, you silly girl.” Aveline muttered as she looked at Hawke in consternation.

“Breaking my heart?” Hawke chortled. “Oh, Aveline, you are such a romantic. Now, don’t frown so at me. You really are a dear one, but I have far more sense than to lose my heart so easily, and certainly not over a little slap and tickle. Regardless of how well he plays the game.”

Aveline just groaned when Hawke winked at her. Sighing loudly, she ushered Hawke through the open doorway into the front hall of the keep.

“You’re impossible, Hawke. I don’t know why I continue to associate with you.”

~~¤~~¤~~¤~~

Watching Varric sift through the sand around the now disabled trap, Hawke pressed a hand to her side to staunch the bleeding cut above her hip bone. Waiting for Carver to unpack a clean bundle of bandages and a healing salve, she considered the bandits they’d just dispatched. With her brother tending to her wounds, she beckoned Aveline over to where she sat on an upturned barrel.

“What are you thinking? Does this seem strange to you too?” Hawke winced as Carver poured water over the gash in her skin to clean the wound.

“They were well trained and outfitted. Varric, what think you of the traps?” Aveline nodded at the dwarf, who was still inspecting the remains of the tripwires.

“I don’t recognize the work, but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. It is however, good quality. Not the common kit of gang thieves or bandits.” He rubbed a hand along his jaw as he met Aveline’s eyes, and then he glanced at Hawke. “I can ask around, if you want me to, Hawke.”

Grimacing as Carver spread salve over her skin, she looked down, watching him tend the wound. As he started to bandage the site she glanced at Aveline.

“It’s your call, Aveline.” Hawke deferred to her friend since they were involved in this for the guardswoman.

“Not quite yet, Varric. I want to talk to the Guard Captain Jeven about this first before I drag you any further into this.”

With a brisk nod, Hawke hopped off the barrel, pushing her tunic down as she adjusted her armor. Slinging her weapon up and over her shoulder, she turned resolutely toward the walled city nestled in between the bay and the mountain.

~~¤~~¤~~¤~~

“Carver! Seriously, I can manage a trip to Darktown without a nursemaid. It’s hardly even a scratch.” Hawke shook off her brother’s supporting arm, struggling to mask just how much pain she was in.

“Maker’s breath! Stop being such a bitch, Greyling. We both know that cut is far worse than it looks and if you want to traipse around Lowtown tonight on your damned ‘errands’ you can’t afford to wind up knifed in the back because you insist on stubbornly going into that cesspit alone.”

Hawke rolled her eyes but held her tongue, instead choosing to fume in silence. Her damned ‘errands’ were what kept a roof over their heads, not to mention food in their bellies, and well Carver knew it. However, that wasn’t really what had her so out of sorts.

She wanted to see Anders alone, without the hovering presence of her brother. He was intriguing and she’d enjoy getting to know him better. Not just because a mage healer would be a great asset in their endeavors, if she could trust him enough to bring him along, but there was also something compelling about his haunted features and troubled eyes.

The clinic was mostly empty when the siblings wandered through the door. Their new friend was examining a young patient, bent at the waist and leaning over a primitive cot, head canted as he listened intently to the child’s parents.

Hawke noted that he still wore the feathered overcoat he’d had on the previous night. His dark blond hair was tousled and somewhat grungy with several loose tendrils that escaped the short queue at his neck. He looked as if he had not slept after they’d left the clinic last night. She wondered briefly how long he’d been tending patients this morning, and if he’d taken the time to grieve his friend, or if he’d simply thrown himself into his work as soon as they’d left him.

“Please, take a seat on any empty bed. I’ll be with you shortly.” Anders acknowledged their presence without looking away from his charge and Hawke was curious if he knew it was them, or if that was just a customary greeting.

Leaning forward, she rested some of her weight on her left arm, which was propped on her thigh. If she took slow and shallow breaths, her side didn’t sting as much. Trying to distract herself from the pain, she tracked Anders as he moved his hands over the small patient.

At her side she could see Carver leaning against the wall, to all appearances nonchalantly, with ankles crossed. However, he was rhythmically tapping one foot against the other, a nervous habit indicating he was anxious.

Turning her head slightly, she looked more carefully at her brother. Muscled arms were crossed over his chest and he was worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. Head down, he was looking at his feet but several times she caught him casting furtive and somewhat suspicious glances at Anders.

If he was so leery of the mage, she didn’t understand why he had insisted on accompanying her to the clinic. He was acting like a skittish foal, ready to bolt at any moment. Surely he didn’t feel the need to protect her from the man.

Before Hawke had time for further rumination, Anders straightened to his full height and then leaned back, hands braced just above his hips. A soft moan escaped his lips as he stretched the tight, abused muscles along his spine.

Glancing at Carver, she noticed his tapping foot had stilled. A look at his eyes found them locked on the other man. Seeing his flushed neck and cheeks, she suddenly had a moment of insight. Before she could stop herself, she peeked at the bulge at the front of his breeches, and then hastily looked away again.

Regardless of any misgivings Carver might harbor, it was quite clear that her brother had a more basic interest in the healer. She’d never known him to show a desire for the company of other men. However, his surly attitude did not welcome many confidences between them, so perhaps she shouldn’t have been so surprised.

Momentarily stunned and lost in her thoughts, Hawke didn’t realize that she’d been asked a question. Carver and Anders were both leaning over her with similar expressions of concern.

“Sorry, I was gathering wool I suppose. Did you ask me something?” She looked at Anders but instead of repeating the question he turned to address Carver.

“Has she been like this since the injury?”

“No, in fact she was fighting me the whole way here about needing an escort.”

Carver rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. Swallowing thickly, he finally looked up at Anders. Hawke noticed him turn slightly away from the man, apparently trying to hide his obviously aroused state.

“Any complaints of dizziness, or have you noticed any slurred speech?” Anders frowned in thought while waiting for the younger man’s answer.

“Nothing like that at all, in fact she’s been a regular bitch since it happened.” Carver chuckled at the shocked expression on Anders’ face.

“Hello, you jackasses! I am sitting right here whenever you’re done talking about me like I’m unconscious.” Hawke growled angrily as the two men continued to discuss her condition.

Anders looked down, finally meeting her eyes. He chuckled softly and then grinned at her.

“If you’re this grouchy, the injury mustn’t be that serious. Come, Hawke, let’s have a look at this wound. Off with the armor then lay on your side, if you please.”

Carver knelt to her right and began releasing the buckles of her cuirass. Deciding it would be foolish and petty to refuse his assistance, she remained still, lifting her arm out of his way. After her armor was removed, she lay on the cot with her tunic lifted and tucked into her armpit.

“Who field dressed this? Did you do it?” Anders asked after he carefully removed the bloodied bandages and started prodding gently at the torn flesh.

“Um… yeah. I did. Is there something wrong?” Carver leaned over Anders’ shoulder to peer at the wound.

“No, quite the contrary, Carver, you did an admirable job of it. The site is nicely cleaned and this is a good salve. Not a mix I’ve seen before, though. Do you mind my asking where you obtained it?” Anders looked up at the young man, a smile on his face.

It was all Hawke could do to keep from rolling her eyes and snorting in disgust as Carver preened from the attention Anders was paying him. He was going to be insufferable the rest of the day now.

“Thank you. I learned a bit about medicinal healing from my father. We all did actually. The salve is his recipe and I make them for our personal use. It saves us a good bit of coin if we can mix them ourselves.”

He smiled as Anders looked up at him again. Hawke saw his face flush and then he quickly moved to the other side of her cot, squatting down opposite Anders. She heard, rather than saw, him swallow loudly, start to speak again but then clamp his mouth shut.

“Yes?” Anders asked when Carver didn’t say anything.

“Oh, I was just going to… not to presume anything since you’re really a healer and well… I just dabble with some basic first aid...” He fell silent for a moment then finished in a rush. “Well, I could, if you wanted to know the recipe, I could show you how to prepare it. Sometime.”

“I’d like that, Carver. I’d like that a lot. Collecting herbal recipes is something of a hobby for me. I’ve thought about printing a book but have never followed through with the notion.” After smiling again, Anders turned his attention back to Hawke and the cut to her side.

~~¤~~¤~~¤~~

Hawke bit down on her lip until she tasted the coppery flavor of blood. Carver was fairly prancing through Lowtown. His good mood clearly a product of their visit with Anders, it was all she could do not to tease him over his uncharacteristic liveliness.

She considered her momentary dismay over his reciprocated interest in Anders and decided that it had less to do with any true desire for Anders himself and more about a disappointing loss of a potential distraction from the day to day.

Mentally shaking herself out of such thoughts, she quickened her steps to catch up with Carver. Stretching slowly as she walked, she gingerly pulled against her newly healed skin. Relieved there was no twinge of pain, she leaned into Carver, bumping him playfully with her elbow.

“Now that I’m back in good health, care to head to the barracks with me? Aveline was going to talk with Jeven about that ambush and I’d like to find out what’s going on.”

He looked down at her, his cheeks still slightly flushed. In that moment she realized that it had been a long time since she’d seen such unbridled joy on his face. Suddenly, she was happy that she hadn’t the opportunity to flirt more with Anders. She truly wasn’t interested in him and, if his small praise and attention to Carver today made her brother this elated, she’d welcome whatever boredom came her way.

~~¤~~¤~~¤~~

Aveline was waiting by the stairs when they arrived at the main hall. She was pacing and muttering to herself. So deep in her musings, Aveline was caught unawares when Hawke approached and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Hawke!” Aveline gasped in surprise.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” Noticing Aveline’s pointed look at Hawke’s torn and bloody shirt, she explained. “We’re back just now, from Anders’ clinic. Clean bill of health, but unfortunately his stitching skills are highly exaggerated. It seems I need a new tunic, he wasn’t able to save this one.”

Carver groaned at her poorly attempted jest. “Maker’s breath.”

Hawke just rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out at her brother. Turning back to Aveline she nodded towards the inner office door of the barracks. “Have you been in to see Jeven yet?”

“No. I’ve requested an audience but so far have been out here waiting like a destitute petitioner seeking alms.” With a growl Aveline slammed a fist into her open palm.

They cooled their heels for another hour. Aveline continued pacing while Hawke and Carver flipped a copper coin to each other. Eventually the door opened and Guard Captain Jeven leaned out, gesturing tersely to Aveline.

Carver was poised, copper balanced on his thumb nail, when the shouting started. Eyes wide he looked to Hawke. Eyebrows raised she shrugged in response. Turning her head slightly, she tried to eavesdrop but was unable to hear anything beyond a few choice curse words that she was pretty certain Aveline had never uttered before.

After several more tense minutes the door opened and a visibly irate Aveline stormed out into the hallway. Sparing a quick glance at Hawke, she jerked her head angrily, gesturing for them to join her.

“I’m so glad she’s never mad at us like that.” Carver muttered as he surged to his feet.

Hawke nodded. “Agreed.”

Aveline’s anger rolled off her in unseen, but evidently felt, waves as all the other guards gave her a wide berth. After a brief discussion regarding the Captain’s lack of appreciation for their initiative in clearing the ambush, Aveline expressed her doubts and concerns over Jevan’s behavior.

Guardswoman Brennan interrupted their perusal of the duty roster. Thanking them for saving her hide by dealing with the bandits, they learned from her of the satchel that some guards were tasked with delivering during their rounds.

Disturbed by what they’d discovered and anxious over Donnic, the guardsman next to carry the curious satchel, Aveline checked the roster again.

“Night patrol in Lowtown… let’s check up on him to ensure Donnic’s round is just that, a quiet patrol.” Aveline looked toward Hawke who nodded her assent.

It was later that night when they learned just how deeply the deceit had run with Captain Jevan. Fortunately they were in time to save Guardsman Donnic’s life. Varric was the only one unsurprised by the captain’s duplicity, merely shrugging and claiming it wasn’t only the Orlesians who suffered corrupt officials.

Aveline tucked the viscount’s seal along with the other incriminating evidence into her leather pouch. Unwilling to leave Donnic to find his own way back, she left them in Lowtown, choosing instead to escort him to the barracks.

Hawke chewed thoughtfully on her lower lip as she watched the two guards pass through the archway to Hightown. Carver was absentmindedly kicking sand over a puddle of blood that marred the alleyway.

“Well hell.” Hawke sighed. “Without Aveline’s help, I’m reluctant to search out Anso. Not that I think the three of us are unable to hold our own, I just prefer to have all the help I can get.”

Varric grunted but made no other comment.

“Anders.” Carver muttered.

“What’s that Carver?” Hawke looked up sharply.

“I was just thinking we could see if Anders wanted to come with us. Short notice, but it seems like he tends to keep odd hours anyhow.” Shrugging, he went back to kicking the dirt around.

Hawke considered the idea for a moment or two before she nodded. “It’s worth the shot. I’d rather see if we can manage to make some coin this night, seeing it is highly unlikely our good turn for the guards will yield anything lucrative.”

~~¤~~¤~~¤~~

Several hours later Hawke was standing in the alienage, hands braced on her knees as panted in exertion.

“Unbelievable.” Sighing heavily, she straightened then looked at her companions. “This  
has been the most ridiculous night I’ve had in ages. Anders, I’m sorry we brought you out on this wild goose chase. Usually our leads are more reliable and profitable.”

“It’s not a problem, Hawke. The evening was becoming taxing for me holed up in Darktown anyhow. I’ve enjoyed the break from the monotony.” Anders looked up from where he was tending to a small cut on Carver’s forearm and smiled at her.

“Anso has a lot of answering to do. I, for one, do not miss the monotony of the Hanged Man and would have preferred to waste my time there.” Varric harrumphed dramatically but without any real anger.

After gathering up their meager spoils of battle, they turned to leave the alienage only to be brought up short by yet another fool spouting nonsense and calling for support from his men.

However, instead of more troops, a lone man fell, stumbling down the stairs, to fall at their challengers’ feet. In surprise they watched as a tall, lanky elf sauntered along behind the dead man, speaking in mocking tones to their adversary.

The breath froze in her throat as Hawke’s lungs constricted painfully in her chest. A deep and growling voice echoed off the walls as the elf continued to taunt the stunned man. It was dark, but even so, she could see the clear emerald of his eyes behind the shock of white hair that fell into his face. Heat pooled in her belly when he came to a stop before her.

Surprise ratcheted through her when he quickly spun, wreathed in electrical blue light, and thrust his clenched fist into the other man’s chest. Hawke felt her eyebrows rise speculatively as the man collapsed in a heap on the ground.

“I am not a slave.” The elf snarled at the dead man.

As suddenly as it appeared, the fierce expression fled as the elf turned to face her. He was apologizing for something… it was hard to force her mind to follow the conversation. The timbre of his voice was rolling over her, buffeting her senses. Smoky, dark and alluring, it distracted and entranced her.

Vaguely aware of an exchange of dialogue with him, she learned his name was Fenris. It suited him, wild and almost feral, like the wolf he was named for. Still she felt an undeniable pull, the desire to attempt to tame him.

Startled by the track her thoughts had taken, she pulled herself from her musings. After learning more of the situation, Hawke readily agreed to assist him. She knew had he asked her to walk off the docks of Kirkwall with him, without any reason, she would have agreed to that as well.

Which is why, some hours later, as she was facing a snarling Fenris, she wondered at her body’s response to him. His angst was directed at her, and apparently Anders as well, and he was terrific to behold in his fury. Why had she ever entertained the notion of taming this unruly bundle of hostility?

Having had enough of Fenris’ vitriol Hawke made a slashing gesture with one arm, and hissing through clenched teeth she tersely challenged him.

“Cease this, Fenris! Anders is a valued member of my cadre, as well as a Gray Warden and a healer. The healer, I might remind you, who patched up your sorry ass not ten minutes ago.”

After another short exchange, Fenris backed down and Hawke relented. Anders, however, was less than thrilled with the elf’s disparaging remarks. Spouting off another round of ‘woe is the mage’ and calling into question Fenris’ genealogy, he stomped off towards his clinic.

“Well isn’t that just fan-fucking-tastic!” Carver growled low in his throat and scowled fiercely at the elf. Shaking his head dismissively at Hawke, he turned on his heel to follow after the mage.

Turning her baleful gaze towards Varric, Hawke waited for his inevitable two pence worth on the current cluster fuck of a situation, all the while hoping dearly that the dwarf planned to take payment out of Anso’s hide for this debacle.

“Don’t look at me like that, Hawke. I’m not going to weigh in on this one. Instead, Bianca and I are going to look for Anso so that we might have a little chat about the meaning of the words ‘full disclosure’ before calling it a night at the Hanged Man. You kids have fun.”

Patting the haft of his crossbow, Varric cleared out of Hightown without a look back, humming quietly to himself. Watching him round a corner and then move from sight, Hawke released a pent up breath she didn’t realize she was holding. As the air whooshed from her lungs she chanced a quick peek at Fenris.

At least the fool man had the decency to look embarrassed and somewhat chastened considering it took less than three minutes for him to run the rest of her party off. What a shame he was so handsome and virile, because he certainly lacked finesse when it came to finer points of social graces.

Maker’s breath! Why was she always attracted to the bad boys? Silently berating her wayward libido she didn’t bother to ponder the question long. She knew why, it was because the good boys were boring and lacked that exciting aura of danger that the bad boys wore like an old familiar cloak.

“Hawke… I am… sorry.” Fenris didn’t meet her gaze but instead toed a small weed growing in between the cobblestones.

Sighing softly, chagrined to realize that regardless of having just met him, she would likely forgive this man anything, she placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently.

“Leave it. It’s been a harrowing night for us all, more so for you I should think. Anders is not likely to forget or forgiver so easily, but something tells me that you could care less about his opinion.” Chuckling softly at the fierce expression that flashed over Fenris’ visage, she just winked at him. “C’mon, if you intend to squat here at Danarius’ mansion, I’ll help you secure the place.”

~~¤~~¤~~¤~~


End file.
